


They are Always

by deadlydecember1214



Series: Riarkle: A Study in Black Holes and Supernovas [1]
Category: Boy Meets World, Girl Meets World
Genre: Angst, Comfort, F/M, Hurt, Mugging, Riarkle, Shooting, maya and riley are besties, riarkle is always, some violence, things get crazy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 08:31:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10693317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadlydecember1214/pseuds/deadlydecember1214
Summary: "They are always. They are Riley and Farkle. They always have been." Walking home, like any other day, goes terribly, terribly wrong when a man tries to mug Riley, Farkle, and Maya.





	1. They are Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from lucasfriarfan: Ok, how bout this, Riley, Farkle and Maya are walking home, someone tries to mug them, Farkle steps in front of the bullet, from a Maya Riley POV, as they sit in the hospital waiting to see if he will make it.
> 
> Author’s Note: So, I am still taking Riarkle/GMW prompts for short stories if you like this one… I hope you do because I was trying a new style that I don’t normally write in and I’m not sure how much I like it…

Everything has faded to gray except for the red on Riley Matthews’ hands.

 

It’s the same shade of scarlet as that lipstick that looks so damn good on Maya and stains her skin in almost the same way, crusting under her nails and sticking into the creases of her palms. And she knows, she really does know, that it’s not Maya’s lipstick coating her hand but she just can’t quite think about what it really is so instead she just tries to recall the name of that shade.

 

_Russian Red_ , maybe?

 

Everything has blurred and that’s about the time she realizes that she is crying.

 

Of course, she’s crying, though, because she’s Riley Matthews and she’s a crier. She hates that about herself but it’s the truth. Any feeling to send her over a 7 on the emotional Richter scale always had her in tears.

 

Clenching her hands into fists, Riley’s muscles relax ever so slightly at the bite of nail in palm. The pain is grounding, something she can actually concentrate on, so she’s thankful even as her hands shake uncontrollably in their balled up and bloodied state.

 

“Riley?”

 

She barely hears the tentative call over the pounding in her head but she does and it forces her to turn her head away from the lipstick stain colored blood.

 

Her mother, at some point she can’t recall, had moved to share the waiting room bench with her and she’s reaching out and caressing Riley’s face. Even though the girl can imagine what her mother’s touch must feel like, she hadn’t even noticed the hands on her until that moment. She hadn’t felt a thing.

 

Over Topanga’s shoulder, Riley can see her father wearing a gutted expression and just that sight makes her grow even colder. That, that she can feel actually. The cold.

 

Blinking, trying to pick out the words she needs from the jumble in her head, Riley’s gaze flickers back to her mother. “Mom, he- he just- It was so fast and I- I couldn’t-“

 

Topanga cuts her off and flings her arms around her daughter, stroking the girl’s soft curls and hushing her as she dissolves into sobs. “Shh, breathe, Sweetie. Just breathe and tell me what happened.”

 

Riley whimpered and shook her head into her mother’s shoulder, crying so hard it shook her whole body. She cries so hard, her throat sears and she thinks her head might just explode.

 

“It’s all my fault!” She moaned, struggling to catch her breath.

 

* * *

 

Riley Matthews was pretty sure that her hand belonged in Farkle Minkus’.

 

Despite the fact that her fingers were short and his were bony and even though her skin was as soft as satin from nightly moisturizer and his was callused from lab experiments and hours of writing too hard in pencil, they still fit like it was meant to be.

 

She watched with a contented smile as the boy in question played with her digits without thinking while flipping through his copy of _A Brief History of Time_ for the twelfth reread. Slotting and intertwining their fingers between them, Farkle never once glance away from the pages of his book as the subway shot through the New York underground.

 

Riley was a little jealous at the way he could maintain a steady, easy balance on the train without grabbing onto anything. She held the bar and still nearly slammed face first into surrounding surfaces.

 

“Riles, would you please stop triggering my gag reflex?” Another voice broke through Riley’s fuzzy brain, startling her slightly.

 

Tightening her grip on her boyfriend’s hand, Riley turned to glare at her best friend. “I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about, Maya.”

 

Maya stood next to her, gripping the same bar, and playfully glaring back. “So, you weren’t just staring at Farkle like a lovesick puppy? Huh, could’ve fooled me.”

 

Blushing, the brunette glanced back over at her best-friend-more-recently-turned-boyfriend only to see him barely biting back a smirk behind his book.

 

She pouted and briefly released the bar she’d been clinging to, smacking him on the shoulder. “Don’t laugh at me!”

 

Farkle finally looked up from his book, acting utterly offended, “I wasn’t laughing!”

 

“He just still can’t believe that you wanna jump him practically every five seconds.” Maya cut in, smirking at the couple.

 

“Maya!” They scolded in unison, both blushing scarlet.

 

Honestly, this whatever-it-was between Farkle and Riley was so new and yet so long overdue that no one, not even the two of them, really knew how to react to it.

 

Only Maya seemed to take it in stride as if she’d expected it all along, and she loved to tease them about it endlessly. This ranged from innocently singing ‘Farkle and Riley sitting in a tree’ in the hallways at school to making thinly veiled sex jokes right in front of Riley’s father.

 

It was mortifying, but that was Maya…And Farkle and Riley loved Maya.

 

The blonde laughed at the flustered pair as the subway slowed to a stop and was the first of the three to make her way off. Riley and Farkle existed together, dropping their hands so that she could help zip his book back into his bag before they started their walk the rest of the way to the Matthews’ residence.

 

Watching Maya stride a few feet ahead of them, Riley hugged Farkle’s arm and leaned her head against his bicep. God, she loved that he was so much taller than her. It had originally infuriated her to be shorter back in middle school when he first shot up but now… well, now the difference was just so much more attractive.

 

“You smell good,” Riley commented lazily without thinking, breathing him in.

 

Farkle chuckled and shook his head, the tips of his ears turning red, “Uh, thanks. It’s soap and detergent.”

 

“Well, it’s nice.” His girlfriend reinforced, glancing up to giggle at his embarrassment.

 

“You always smell like sunflowers and strawberries.” Farkle blurted out.

 

Riley nodded, “I call it ‘favorite shampoo and mom’s perfume’. Thinking about picking up a patent. You know, branding it.”

 

“Very smart business decision, really. It could be incredibly profitable.” The young genius played along.

 

Rolling her eyes and smiling, Riley snuggled closer to Farkle’s arm, causing him to sway in his step a bit. Regaining his footing with a light laugh, he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to the crown of her head. He paused for a moment to breathe in that intoxicating mixture of sunflowers and strawberries.

 

Ahead Maya had ducked into the alley with the stainless window that they took home every day and vanished from sight. The couple took their time following, enjoying the break from their friend’s teasing.

 

Finally, they turned the corner only to stop short. Riley’s expression dropped, her limbs going numb as they slipped from Farkle while her brain slowly computed the situation before her.

 

Maya stood, rigid as a board, with her hands raised in the universal sign for surrender and a few feet in front of her stood a man. A man with a gun aimed right at the blonde’s chest.

 

Riley couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, all she knew was Maya, her Maya was in danger and she had to do something. The man’s eyes had widened at Riley and Farkle’s appearance and he was looking increasingly panicked. He narrowed his gaze on the locket hanging from Maya’s neck, “Give up the gold, kid, or I’ll shoot you all!”

 

Slowly, the brunette took a step forward with her hands out before her, moving to Maya’s side. “Please, sir, you don’t want to do this.”

 

“Oh, I think I do! We can’t all be spoiled rich kids and I need the cash.” He moved the gun to point at Riley, making her falter in her step.

 

“Hey, calm down, man!” Farkle snapped from somewhere close behind Riley.

 

Quickly and erratically, the man flicked his wrist back to Maya and glared behind the girls where Riley assumed her boyfriend was standing. “Give it up!”

 

Maya narrowed her eyes. No one would even think she were scared if her hands weren’t shaking ever so slightly, still raised in the air. “My mother and step-father gave me this locket. It’s mine, not yours!”

 

“I’m not messing around!” The man yelled, waving the firearm wildly.

 

Without a thought, Riley stepped forward again, positioning herself between the barrel and Maya. She hurriedly pleaded, “Hey! Hey! Calm down!” while at the same time that both Farkle and Maya yelped, “Riley!”

 

The man tried to scramble back, as if as afraid of Human Ray of Sunshine Riley Matthews as she was of him but slammed into a dumpster. Like a caged animal, he lashed out and rocketed himself toward his closest, easiest target.

 

Riley.

 

There was a gunshot, a scream, and then Riley felt her body slam into the hard concrete of the alleyway. Her forehead connected hard with the ground and the air was knocked from her lungs by a weight that had fallen across her body.

 

“Riley! Farkle!” Maya’s voice screamed as Riley forced her eyes open.

 

She tried to mentally search her body for the pain that had to have come from being shot but all she felt was the pounding in her head. Above her, the weight shifted and a groan sounded out as Maya came running and dropped to her knees. The weight, Riley realized in a horrorstruck daze, was Farkle.

 

Farkle, who was now laying across her legs, clutching his side, just under his chest.

 

He’d pushed her aside.

 

Sitting up in a panic, Riley carefully shifted her boyfriend’s head into her lap. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

 

“What do we do?!” Maya frantically asked, leaning over the boy.

 

Farkle hissed and squeezed his eyes shut, biting back a scream. Breathing shallowly, he forced his mouth open, “Pre-pressure. You gotta put pre-pressure…”

 

He trailed off into a groan, skin quickly turning the color of paper.

 

Riley’s stomach turned as she ripped the scarf from around her neck and balled up the material, pressing it hard against the bloody wound and moving Farkle’s hands out of the way. The boy yelped and tried to twist away from her touch for a moment before thinking rationally once again. Blood instant soaked through the thin material, coating Riley’s fingers and making them slick.

 

“911!” Riley sobbed, turning her wide, fearful eyes on her blonde best friend. “Call 911!”

 

As Maya struggled with her cell phone, Riley maintained pressure while leaning her forehead against Farkle’s. Maybe she was imagining it or maybe she was warm from panic, but his skin already seemed chillingly cool against her own.

 

“Riley…” Farkle slurred, keeping his eyes closed and tilted his head up towards her touch.

 

“No, no, no.” She mumbled, moving to press her lips against his forehead, “You have to stay with me, okay? You said always! You said always, so you have to stay!”

 

* * *

 

Hours pass.

 

Topanga holds her daughter up and walks her to the bathroom where she scrubs the girl’s hands until they are raw and pink. Riley knows the blood is all gone but she can still feel the stickiness of it under her nails.

 

The two women sit back down to wait and wait and Riley is suddenly struck by the fact that Maya is nowhere to be seen. She can’t even remember where she lost track of the blonde in the rush to the hospital but she thought Maya had gotten in the ambulance with them…

 

Farkle’s mother is there but she doesn’t talk to Riley and from what she’s gathered Stuart is away and hasn’t answered his phone yet. His son is dying and he can’t be pulled from a meeting. Riley’s heart aches.

 

They will blame her too. They should.

 

Why had she stepped closer?

 

Why had she tried to talk the man down?

 

Farkle wouldn’t be in surgery, fighting for his life if it weren’t for her and her blind, idiotic optimism.

 

All her fault.

 

“Riley,” Another whisper, even shakier and more tentative than her mother’s from hours ago. _Had it really been hours?_

 

Maya stood, eyes rimmed red and puffy, her whole body shaking. Riley had seen Maya at her best and at her worst and everything in-between but in that moment the girl looked more broken than she ever had before.

 

“Riley,” Maya tried again, hiccuping, “I’m so sorry.”

 

She collapses, folds in on herself, and clings to Riley while sobbing into her lap. She continues to mutter broken apologies but all Riley can do is sit and try to riddle out why Maya is sorry when none of this is her fault. It’s Riley’s.

 

“I should have just given him the locket! Farkle would be fine if I hadn’t been stupid and selfish!” Maya says at some point and Riley’s heart breaks all over again for her friend and herself and most of all for Farkle.

 

Her pink, raw fingers move to comb through Maya’s curls and it’s not quite the fit Farkle’s hand is but it feels right.

 

They settle into each other and wait together.

 

Her hands are freezing and she knows it’s from the poor circulation on her mother’s side of the family but all she can think is that her hand is cold because it’s waiting for the warmth of Farkle’s.

 

But finally, finally, a doctor comes to address Mrs. Minkus and Jennifer’s eyes dart to meet Riley’s from across the room as the man speaks to her. It’s the first time she’d even acknowledged her son’s girlfriend. Riley understands.

 

After they are done, Farkle’s mother nods and comes to stand before the two girls she knows her son loves more than any other. While Jennifer loves her son, the deep pain of Riley Matthews and Maya Hart over him still makes her squirm.

 

She swallows hard, eyes flickering away from their faces. “He’s going to be okay.”

 

* * *

 

Everything becomes crisp and vibrant the moment Riley steps into Farkle’s room.

 

Maya clutches her arm and trails behind her. Riley barely notices her, though, and it’s one of those rare moments in her life that doesn’t focus on her best friend.

 

No, this moment is _his_. It’s Farkle’s.

 

Moving to his side, Riley slots and intertwines her fingers through his and instantly relaxes. Every bony ridge, every callus, every warm cell feels comforting and familiar and just right. If her eyes were closed, she would have been able to forget everything but his touch, she’s sure.

 

There’s a groan and Farkle shifts, his fingers tightening around hers.

 

“Farkle?” Riley whimpers, using her other hand to brush the hair back from his forehead. “It’s me. It’s Riley.” After a beat of her heart, “Maya’s here, too.”

 

“Mmm,” The boy mumbled, eyes staying sluggishly closed as the corners of his lips tick up, “You smell like sunflowers and strawberries.”

 

Her heart melts and a bubbly, tearful giggle bursts from her lips. “You smell more like an operation room right now than soap and detergent but I still like it.”

 

His electric blue eyes flutter open and quickly focus on her chocolate brown. In that moment, they are alone. They are a single point in the universe. They are Riley and Farkle and he’s going to be okay and she can breathe again.

 

A tired smile plays on his face before he shifts to look at Maya and lazily closes his eyes once again, “You’re both okay. Good.”

 

“Yeah, well, we wish we could say the same for you, dumbass!” Maya snaps, her voice thick with a little bite. “Farkle, I’m so sorry. I should have just given him the locket.”

 

Opening his eyes and scrunching up his forehead, Farkle shakes his head, “Don’t be sorry. I understand. You weren’t going to give up the locket. Riley was going to try and talk him down. I was going to protect you both.”

 

He half-heartedly shrugs, “It’s who we are. I could have told you what was going to happen the second we walked into the alley.”

 

Maya rolls her eyes, “Of course you could. Like when we go to the movies.”

 

The tiny-bit-doped-up boy sighs, “We’re predictable.”

 

Shortly after, the blonde excuses herself to get some water but both of her friends know that she’s really just still feeling guilty. She needs space. Riley will go to her eventually.

 

Stroking Farkle’s cheek with the back of her hand, Riley leans forward and gently presses a kiss to his lips. They are warm again like she’s so fond of and used to. Barely moving back she opened her eyes to see his blue gaze already on her. “You saved my life. You saved my life three times now.”

 

He gazes at her with an intensity that steals her breath again, only this time the burn in her lungs is pleasant. “I love you.”

 

“And I love you.”

 

They are always. They are Riley and Farkle. They always have been.


	2. She Always Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 and conclusion of They Are Always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speaking with the person who gave me the original prompt for They are Always inspired me to do a part 2 for it… and so here it is… so many emotions!!!

Maya decides it is best for her to watch from afar.

 

Her two best friends are so wrapped up in each other that she wonders if they even realize they are still occupying a crowded hospital room. Riley tangles Farkle’s fingers with her own and presses the back of his hand into her chest, forehead-to-forehead as she quietly hushes him. 

 

He’s two days out of being shot and he doesn’t like how the pain medication messes with his head so he has started refusing it.

 

Well, Maya doesn’t like how the pain messes with his everything so she’s about two seconds from forcing the pills down his scrawny throat.

 

But instead, she watches from afar and lets Farkle groan and whimper through the flare until he settles back in. He clutches Riley’s hands the whole time, his other fist tight on his blanket with white knuckles. Maya knows the grips gotta hurt but her best friend doesn’t so much as flinch, just whispers comforting, sweet nothings for only the boy to hear until it passes.

 

When it does, Farkle’s whole body relaxes and he’s a little out of breath. His hand goes slack in Riley’s but she keeps their fingers intertwined, pressing a kiss to his forehead before she slides back into the seat at his bedside. Sleepily, she uses one hand to rub her eyes. 

 

Maya steps forward and glances over at Jennifer Minkus, who is busy typing on her phone, before turning back to the brunette.

 

“How you doing, Riles?”

 

Riley’s big, brown eyes fly open and she sits up straight, “Me? Oh, I’m fine.”

 

Maya knows she’s not. It’s been _at least_ twenty hours since Riley had gotten any sleep and even that had just been drifting in and out. There is no way she was running on anything but fumes. She quirks an eyebrow at her friend.

 

Running a thumb gently over Farkle’s knuckles, Riley looks back up at her boyfriend. He’s already drifted back off, pain and exhaustion leaving him in a constant state of almost-asleep.

 

“He needs me.”

 

Maya’s heart aches in her chest at Riley’s words. She knows it’s true. Farkle needs Riley and as long as he does, Riley will be there.

 

Even if it takes everything she’s got.

 

So, Maya sighs in resignation and decides it is best for her to watch from afar.

 

* * *

 

“Mom, can you just-“

 

“I cannot believe this! Do these doctor’s know who we are?! We have the money for you to stay here until your dying day and they want to send you home?!”  


“Mom! Really-“

 

“No, Farkle! I will take care of this!”

 

Riley presses against the wall as Jennifer Bassett Minkus whirls past her and out of the hospital room. She tries to bite back a smile at the woman’s antics but it’s no good the moment her brown eyes meet Farkle’s rolling blue.

 

Coming more into the room, the girl crosses her arms over her chest, “So, _she’s_ not happy that you got the go-ahead to go home.”

 

“Uh, no,” Farkle answers with a tired smile even though Riley had made more of a statement than a question. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, dressed in normal clothes for the first time in days and even though he’s still sitting rigidly from pain and discomfort, the sight alone makes it easier for Riley to breathe. 

 

_He’s okay. He’s okay. He’s okay._

 

It’s all she can think most of the time.

 

As if reading her mind, Farkle takes one look at her and jerks his head in a gesture for her to come closer, “Come here, babe.”

 

_Babe_. 

 

It’s one of the small pieces of this new thing that they are and she holds it close to her heart. She’s never liked that particular pet name and yet she melts when he says it.

 

Bashfully, Riley moves to stand inches from Farkle, his height making them level even with him seated. Peeking up at him through long eyelashes, she doesn’t risk leaning into him like she would have before. She can’t stand the idea of causing him pain.

 

That doesn’t stop Farkle from wrapping her up and pulling her closer anyways. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, in her sunflower and strawberry hair. His breath warms her skin as he mumbles, “What’s a matter?”

 

Reaching up with some lingering reluctance, Riley combs her fingers through the hair at the back of Farkle’s neck. It’s been days since he’s been able to style it, so it’s soft like down feathers. _God, she loves his hair._

 

“I’m not sure I’m so happy you’re going home either,” Lightly grasping the fist full of hair, Riley pulls Farkle’s head back so that their noses are inches apart. “Convince me, Dr. Turtleneck.”

 

It’s supposed to be witty and joking and at ease but Farkle can read her as easily as he can read the periodic table so he knows better. He hears the fear and desperation underneath, the panic. It still astounds him that _Riley Matthews_ panics over him.

 

Gripping her hips, Farkle pulls even her closer and ignores the unforgiving pain that shoots from his wrapped bullet wound. 

 

“Riley, my vital signs have been ideal and consistent for an extended period of time. My wound is clean and wrapped, showing no unusual signs of redness or tenderness. I haven’t had any fevers or indications of infection and I’ve been off of opioids for over forty-eight hours without relapse. In summary, I am _okay_.”

 

Worrying at her lower lip, Riley nods but doesn’t meet those electric blue eyes. Seconds pass and then soft, warm, perfect lips are pressing against her own and her brain temporarily short circuits. 

 

All she feels is Farkle’s hands against the small of her back, the erratic pounding of her own heartbeat in her chest, and the flush settling over her cheeks. All she cares about is the scent of fresh laundry and the gasp Farkle steals from her when his tongue skims over her lips. All she knows is _God, she loves his hair_ and _he's okay._

 

* * *

 

He goes home and he has nightmares where things go a little differently. 

 

Farkle knows by the fourth night he shoots up in his bed, sweating and gasping, that he _probably_ needs to address the issue but part of him is embarrassed. 

 

He manages to be Maya and Riley’s hero _one time_ and he can’t handle the emotional fallout afterward. For about five minutes, he considers just powering through but then he realizes that means he’ll have to keep having _that_ nightmare and decides it’s just not worth it.

 

He can’t watch the man in the alley point his gun at Riley again.

 

He can’t hear the bullet fly from the chamber again.

 

He can’t see Riley fall _again_.

 

Riley helps the nightmares when she’s there. 

 

They don’t come at all if her body is curled into his side, the warm Star Wars-themed comforter cocooning them together. She keeps making comments about how he’s her hero and how he’s saved her life _three times_ now but Farkle knows the truth. 

 

Riley’s his hero and she saves him every day.

 

When the Matthews insist that Riley _has to go home_ for a night or two, Maya stays with him. It’s a fundamental part of Maya that she is different from Riley and her differences don’t make Farkle love her less. They make him love her differently. And she comforts him differently.

 

She plays cold, uses humor and mockery to keep herself distant, but there’s a fire in her eyes and soul that make it abundantly clear how much she cares.

 

They lay side-by-side and look up at his planetarium, without speaking. He’s on his back and she’s on her stomach with her head tipped back, blonde hair spilling down her shoulders to the sketchbook open before her. 

 

When he ‘star gazes’ with Riley, it is hours of whispering the names of constellations and pointing out each planet and listing every moon. With Maya, it is nothing but silence as he contempts and she sketches and sketches, every now and then glancing over at him like he might just fade away if left unacknowledged for too long. He always just meets her gaze, telling her without words that he won’t.

 

The nightmare still comes when Maya is with him, but he can shake them once he sees her alive and asleep next to him.

 

It’s the first night that he has to go without Riley or Maya and his mother has to rattle him awake so as to stop his screaming that he finally admits he needs help. Someone outside of the two girls _might_ be able to help him through this, though he’s not confident.

 

* * *

 

Sitting on the crinkly paper of the exam table, Farkle doesn’t quite get it.

 

_Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder._

 

The doctor slaps a nice, neat name on it and that makes his parents believe everything is solved…But it’s not. The guy scribbles his hard earned MD on a prescription for anti-anxiety medication and sends the family and the boy on their way. Farkle can admit that he’s a little on edge but it pisses him off that he still doesn’t feel like he has any _real_ answers.

 

Physically, he understands the problem, he _knows_ what’s wrong with him. 

 

On a chemical level, the issue is an excess of stress hormones like cortisol in his bloodstream. This causes him to feel stressed, depressed, lackluster. They create the nightmares and the new ticks he keeps developing, seemingly daily, and even make him lose his appetite at every meal. 

 

The pills are meant to stimulate the gamma-aminobutyric acid in his brain and release the gratification hormone, dopamine, into his system. It will relax him, supposedly calm him. _A little dopamine can go a long way,_ his doctor actually jokes. Farkle thinks it’s pretty tactless.

 

But Farkle’s whole life has been one anxious moment to the next. He knows how to deal with anxiety and this, _this_ all-consuming panic and random bouts of blinding fear; it’s different. 

 

Something _is wrong with him._

 

And no one seems to hear him when he tries to tell them. It makes him feel even crazier than he’s already starting to think he might be and that makes him want to just stop trying to tell them _anything_. 

 

Riley listens, at least, but she doesn’t understand.

 

A piece of him, an essential part of his being, something _fundamental_ is missing or broken or _something_. He doesn’t know, he isn’t sure, but he can’t shake the weight and emptiness of it. Pills aren’t going to help that.

 

Besides, the medication makes his head foggy, so it goes in the trash.

 

A few nights later, he is caught.

 

“I found them in the trash, Stuart! The trash!” Farkle can hear his mother scream which is impressive considering how far across the top floor she is. “He _threw his medication away!_ ”  


A hand tightens on his bicep and he looks down at Riley’s dark eyes in the soft glow of the planetarium. They are nestled together under his covers, warm and secure. He actually feels safe with her right there, a feeling he’s beginning to forget more and more every day.

 

“Tell me you didn’t.” She says, her voice quiet and wavering a little. 

 

He doesn’t want to let her down but he can’t lie… They don’t lie to each other. 

 

Riley sighs and sits up, hovering over him with the ends of her long hair tickling his cheeks. Tears pool in her eyes and he feels like complete shit because not only did he let her down but now he’d made her _cry_ and _goddamn it, Minkus…_

 

“PTSD is serious, Farkle. I understand that the pills don’t work for you, but promise me you’ll find something that does. Don’t just let this go. _Promise_.”

 

Farkle stays silent and his gaze flickers back up to Cassiopeia over Riley’s head and then to Orion. Orion, the Hunter, who in his myth had been killed by a single, small scorpion after conquering all of the beasts of the land. He’d underestimated the severity of his opponent and it had cost him.

 

Reaching up, Farkle takes Riley’s face in his hands and kisses her, hard. After a long moment, the two pulled apart, both breathless, and his heart stutters because she’s smiling at him again and it’s been a while since she’s done that.

 

“I promise.”

 

* * *

 

It takes time. 

 

However, Farkle has learned from his experiences with Riley Matthews that all _great_ things do.

 

He has a panic attack the first day he returns to school and it’s Maya who finally manages to pull him back. Lucas joking smacks his shoulder about a month later and receives a hard right hook to the jaw out of instinct and fear but Farkle is forgiven instantly. Now, Smackle asks before she gives him a hug, the same way he once asked her. And Zay actually gets him to laugh.

 

It takes time.

 

But slowly, he learns to walk the streets of New York alone again. Reluctantly, he gets to the point where he can go outside without feeling like someone is lurking around every corner. And eventually, _eventually_ , he starts sleeping through the night again on his own.

 

It takes time. But Riley is there.

 

She always is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PTSD, depression, and anxiety are no joke guys. I wrote Farkle’s trauma from a different point of view as I do not have PTSD but I do have several anxiety issues and disorders and struggle on and off with depression. If you are suffering, remember you aren’t alone. If you ever need someone to talk to, PM me or contact the suicide prevention hotline at: 1-800-273-8255.


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